


In Canyons of Steel

by Wolfsheart



Category: X-Men, X-men AU
Genre: Autumn, Boyfriends, Central Park, Dating, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Manhattan, New Relationship Energy, New York, Prehensile Tails, Snuggling, hand-holding, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsheart/pseuds/Wolfsheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BFFs Logan and Scott have a discussion while making their way through Central Park.  Logan wants to introduce Scott to his boyfriend, they discuss Scott's divorce and need to get back into the dating scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Canyons of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> In response to Logurtwaggon's [Autumn Logurt challenge on Tumblr](http://logurtwaggon.tumblr.com/post/98808678402/logurt-challenge-for-october). 
> 
> Inspired by the [hipster!Kurt fanpic](http://bamfcrawler.tumblr.com/post/99874019935/crow821-the-stephly-hallows-ridiculous) by the-stephly-hallows. 
> 
> This story takes place in an AU'verse where mutants haven't been nearly as persecuted as they are in the comics or movies. In this AU, Logan is only a few years older than Scott, and they both attended Xavier's Institute as students before going to college/getting teaching degrees and moving on to teach at the Dalton School in New York. Some things remain the same, some are different. Some never happened at all, such as Emma's changing her appearance from a lovely, small-chested brunette to a busty blonde because of the bullying at the hand of girls like that in her life. Mutants still face prejudice like anyone else, but it's not the worldwide hatred. 
> 
> This story is relatively schmoopy and sweet and somewhat domestic.

*****

“I’m tellin’ ya, Scott, ya gotta get over Jeannie.  She didn’t just break your heart, bub.  She pulverized it when she stepped out on ya with that richboy,” stated the voice like warm cream over cold gravel. 

Scott looked down at the compact man to his right.  “Logan, she _just_ quit Dalton two months ago and went to work at Worthington Industries to do the research she’s wanted to do since before we all left Xavier’s.  Being a teacher didn’t suit her.  She...” 

Logan coughed, “Bullshit.”  He herded the taller man out of the light bouncing off the skyscrapers and up a few cobbled steps into Central Park.  Their work week was over, and the two men had stopped by their favorite pub for a beer before heading out again.  “She’s been lookin’ to better deal ya since before ya finished up at Xavier’s, and she only accepted the teaching position at Dalton ‘cause that’s what ya wanted once ya finished at NYU.  _You_ wanted to teach.  She wanted outa the classroom, and that richboy gave her the chance.”  He cleared his throat and added, “In more ways than one.”  

Eyes rolled behind ruby-lensed shades, and Scott opened his mouth to protest – not that he really had anything _to_ protest because what Logan said was true. 

“Scott, she gave ya divorce papers two months before that, and even a month before _that_ , half of Dalton knew she was sleepin’ around,” Logan continued. 

“This isn’t ‘where were you when your marriage fell apart’, Logan.  I _do_ remember all this.  I _was_ there for it,” Scott snarked and saw his friend hold up his hands in surrender.  He sighed and looked around.  He knew from descriptions that the leaves overhead would be a brilliant array of jewel tones – citrine, garnet, carnelian, with few remaining peridot, so dark that they seemed impossible.  He crunched over several in his chocolate brown loafers and wished he didn’t have to wear these fucking shades just to keep from pulverizing the carousel as they walked past.  All for a glimpse of what autumn really looked like. 

“I’m just sayin’ that you’re free.  Worthington helped her get that quick divorce, and you’re free.  It’s Friday.  Ya don’t have a single paper to grade over the weekend, there’s no homework for gym, ya’ve got a fuckin’ pint in ya, and now you’re surrounded by the majesty of the park.  No reason to keep yourself locked up in your apartment all alone.”  Logan brushed away a russet maple leaf that had fallen onto his shoulder, and he rolled the sleeves of his light flannel shirt up back up to his elbows.  “Besides,” he added with a rather libertine grin.  “I think it’s time ya did more serious datin’.” 

Scott rubbed his eyes under his glasses then tried to suss out where Logan was leading him.  They usually took walks through the park with each other, jabbering on about their days or even anything but their classes and students.  The fresh air cleared their heads and allowed them to just let go of work before they split up to their own apartments; Scott usually had papers to grade.  Logan had Netflix to watch.  There weren’t many papers to grade for shop class. 

However, Logan appeared to have a purpose.  Instead of meandering from path to path, he herded Scott across the grass toward one of the low hills.  His stride was casual as always, but Scott picked up the subtle differences in the way he moved.  Logan’s broad shoulders pointed his body toward the direction they headed, and instead of both hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, only one was while the other twitched and clenched at his side, as if anticipating the touch of something pleasant. 

“I have been...dating,” Scott supplied, and he looked up ahead to the hill where he could see a crowd gathered.  Whatever was there, that’s what Logan wanted them to see. 

“You’ve gone out for coffee exactly four times with three different women, and that’s all ya’ve done, Scott,” Logan voiced.  “I’m talking a real date.  Dinner somewhere nice.  The sorta place that has linen tablecloths and candles.  A date where ya get to know someone more than just talkin’ about students over a mocha latte.”  He tore his eyes away from the hill they moved toward to stare up at the other man.  “Ya know, there _is_ a teacher at Dalton who’s been eyein’ ya for a while now.  Even while ya were still with Jeannie.  And as I hear it whispered, she’s one of us.” 

Shaking his head, Scott pushed out a sigh then smiled.  He’d been expecting this lecture from his best friend for at least a month.  It impressed him that Logan waited this long.

“And which teacher is this, Logan?  The ones I went out with weren’t as interested as they’d seemed,” he replied.  Scott sounded surprised to hear that there were more mutants teaching at Dalton.  He thought Logan, Jean, and he had been the only ones.  The others who’d graduated from Xavier’s around the same time as they did – well, Hank graduated with Logan, Bobby and Remy after Scott and Jean, and Warren walked for his diploma at the same time as them – had scattered to the winds, although some had wound up back at Xavier’s.  Hank did, after all, but then Hank could be everywhere at times because of medical conferences and biochemical conferences and genetic science conferences, and still, he managed to have time to teach half of the science classes at their alma mater. 

“That pretty English and philosophy teacher.  Emma,” Logan’s answer came without hesitation.  “She’s like the Professor, but from what I hear around the water cooler, she’s even stronger.  Just quiet about it most of the time.”  He found the look of surprise and interest on Scott’s face to be both amusing and hopeful.  He was just so damned tired of his best friend mourning a relationship that had been dead longer than Latin. 

Scott noticed that they were headed right for the crowd, but his curiosity about that halted and shifted gears with a screech when Logan gave his answer. 

“Emma.  Emma _Frost_?  She usually keeps to herself, rarely hangs out in the teachers’ lounge.  I didn’t think she knew I existed,” he replied, feeling as if Logan had dropped a brick on his head. 

Logan laughed. 

“Oh, she knows, Scott.  She knows and she’s interested,” he promised then tapped the side of his nose and waggled his eyebrows.  Then he stared at the crowd up ahead, and his anticipation grew the closer they came to it. 

Scott laughed, too, and snorted, “Jesus, Logan.  Not all women like it if you go around sniffing at them, and Emma doesn’t strike me as the type who’d put up with it.”  He could hear music now – circus music but the sort of circus music more akin to Cirque du Soleil.  All flats and sharps and twists in the melody that were haunting and exciting and not at all full of promises for children.  At one point, he was certain he saw something fling up into the air on fire. 

“Doesn’t matter, Scott, whether or not they like bein’ sniffed.  Not for me.  You know that.  Can’t help what I was born with,” Logan commented.  “Just think about it, though.  She’s real pretty, and she’s smart, and she hasn’t been goin’ out with anyone since she broke up with that asshole.  Sebastian.”  He paused just before they reached the group of people and turned to stare right up at Scott.  “Just...think about it.  I hate to see ya still hurtin’ over someone who doesn’t deserve ya.” 

With Scott, Logan didn’t even squirm when he expressed his emotions.  As far as the former knew, he and their old headmaster were the only ones with whom Logan was an open book.  The Professor could just read their thoughts anyway, but with Scott, they’d grown up in similar conditions.  Parents gone at tender ages, pulled away from siblings – Scott had been stuck in an orphanage in Anchorage where he’d been born, and Logan was shoved into a camp of lumberjacks in the Northwest Territories after none of his family in Edmonton wanted him.  Both faced bullies, both were besieged by losses so heavy that it was a wonder they were as sane as they were – not that some of their friends believed they were alright in the head.  When Charles Xavier brought Scott to his school for mutants in Westchester, he’d been fifteen and tall but rail thin from malnourishment since the keepers at the orphanage didn’t stop the bullies from stealing his food, and Logan was seventeen, stocky like a Viking, and short with the temper of a bear harassed out of hibernation.  When he’d caught Warren Worthington starting to push Scott around to impress a certain young redhead, Logan put a stop to it with his fists until the Professor ordered a ceasefire in his mind.  After that, they’d become the strangest of best friends, their loyalties stretched only when Jean had tried to play them against each other.  

Scott met Logan’s eyes as best he could, given that the shades he had to wear to block his mutation.  What he read in the other man’s face wasn’t the impatient pity of someone who just wanted him to shut the fuck up and get over his failed marriage.  He clasped his hand on Logan’s shoulder. 

“Thanks, Logan.  I’ll...give it some thought and talk to Emma on Monday.  See where she really stands,” he replied, the softness in his tone offering his appreciation.  He heard the crowd cheer and turned his head in time to see something else on fire flip up into the air.  “Now come on.  You brought me up here for a reason.  I take it you want me to see whatever this crowd’s staring at?”  He assumed it was another performer.  The number of musicians, magicians, acrobats, and other artists that they dropped money for in the park had grown into the double digits, and Scott never minded it when they weren’t entitled assholes toward their audiences. 

Logan’s grin was sheepish, and his cheeks crisped like ripe Galas before he brought his shoulders up in a shrug to hide them.  Now his hands dove into his pockets to hide his fidgeting, and Scott wanted to laugh at this coy behavior out of a man he thought could no more play coy than he could play the celibate. 

“Or is it _whomever_ that the crowd’s staring at?  And you want me to see her...” 

“Him.  And uh...yeah.  I think he’s almost done though, so we’ve gotta get in there or you’ll miss everything,” Logan supplied.  He tried to brush off that shy-boy look, and he didn’t miss Scott’s cocked eyebrow.  “Yeah, I said him.  I’ll explain later after ya meet him.  I promise.  I just want ya to see what he can do.”

Logan curled his fingers into the sleeve of Scott’s hoodie and pulled him the rest of the way.  He wasn’t rude, but he did nudge them as gently as he could through arms and legs and bodies until the two men could see the performer without obstruction. 

Scott stood riveted by the performer, who appeared to be nothing more than whipcord over bone underneath his clothes with pointed ears like an elf and a thin, almost hooked nose.  His jaw appeared as angled and sharp as Scott’s, but that’s where any physical similarity ended. 

He watched the performer balance on one hand while two-toed feet and a long, prehensile tail juggled three flaming batons, and his heart stilled in his chest. 

“He calls himself Nightcrawler,” Logan whispered, the awe in his voice thick. 

“I can see why,” Scott murmured back.

The man was created from a strip of night’s velvet.  Blue fur covered his body, creating a shadow of his form, and the laughter spilling from his lips convinced Scott that he was Peter Pan’s shadow, escaped at last for all time.  The way the fire caught portions of his features at a time, especially his face or the sharp spade at the end of his tail, left the impression that this man hailed from another realm altogether, and the autumn breeze carried the occasional whisper of ‘demon’ into everyone’s hearing. 

Scott ignored those comments, but when he side-eyed Logan, he caught the older man’s crinkled nose and narrowed eyes until the whispers stopped.  Once more those features softened and took on the distinction of being smitten.  He’d never seen his best friend this lovestruck in his life.  He nearly commented, but the fire batons flared high up into the air as the performer flipped over onto his feet, and they exploded into a display of fireworks that puffed out all the scents of the season around them until Scott’s nostrils burned with the smell of cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg. 

“Whoa.”

Logan nodded.  “I know.  It’s a little different each time, but he’s always good.” 

Scott was amused by the distinction – the show was different but the _man_ was always good. 

“You’ve got it bad, Logan.”  His teasing barely masked the joy he felt for his friend having found someone who’d swept him off his feet. 

“So what if I do?  It’s a nice feeling.  Ya oughta try it sometime.” 

They both stood back while segments of the audience ambled forward to drop money into a floppy knitted hat lying on top of a small case.  Only the most indifferent scrooges walked away without dropping money into the hat while the performer – _Nightcrawler_ – thanked people and put away his props.  He even wandered out to where the flaming-cinnamon batons had landed, no longer on fire, and he scooped them up into his three-fingered hands and found the nearest trashbin into which he tossed them. 

“I can see why you like him, Logan,” Scott murmured as the last of the crowed ambled away.  “He’s very...”  The slightly younger of the two cleared his throat and now wore a smile that spoke of the naughty visuals he’d gotten of the blue-furred acrobat and his best friend.  “...bendy.” 

Logan squinted an eye at Scott and then laughed.

“Yeah.  Bendy’s the right word,” he retorted in a low voice, which spoke of all the ways he’d discovered just how bendy the nimble man was.  “And that tail...” 

“Logan!  Mein Schatz!”

Scott didn’t have a chance to prepare himself for a normal meet-and-greet before a blue whirr of energy glomped Logan, and he had to step a few inches to the left to avoid being smacked with that wild tail.  He smiled wider, and he waited while Nightcrawler grabbed Logan’s face in his hands and peppered him with kisses.  He’d compare the excited reaction to that of a puppy who’d waited all day for his owner to come home, but Scott could see that this man oozed _feline_ in his grace and movements. 

This was not a man who had clumsy moments in his life.  Every inch of body language screamed that into Scott’s opinion of him. 

“You.  Were.  Not.  Here.  Last.  Night.  Logan.” 

He punctuated each word with a kiss _and_ a swat to the head with the spade of his tail, and what would’ve driven Logan into a rage, perhaps, just a few years ago made him laugh now and reach out to hold the spaz in the grip of his hands. 

“Kurt...darlin’.  Calm the fuck down a minute.  Catch your breath, stop hittin’ me with your tail or I’m gonna tug it,” Logan growled. 

Kurt gasped and pulled back to stare with his solid yellow eyes into the smirk of the shorter man.

And without skipping a beat, he scolded Logan in German so perfect that Scott, with two years of it under his belt from Xavier’s, couldn’t keep up.  He looked down at the ground but couldn’t hide the smile. 

“Quit your smirkin’, asshole,” Logan grumbled, but he was just as amused as Scott.  He picked up a little more than Scott, but that was the result of his time with Kurt.  He cleared his throat and told Kurt, “I’ll pull your tail, Elf, when I want, and ya know ya like it.” 

Scott watched as the animated mutant just calmed down and gave Logan a coy smile before tucking himself at the short man’s side. 

“Logan, mein Lieb, you’re going to introduce me to your friend, ja?” Kurt purred – yes, Scott would swear that was a purr – as he stooped down to nuzzle his cheek against Logan’s flannel-clad shoulder. 

“Kurt Wagner, this is the guy I’ve told ya about.  Scott Summers.  We go way back.” 

Scott still felt a little rattled by the pupil-less eyes staring at him, that grin of an imp’s, watching Kurt’s tail flicked back and forth like a cat just waiting to for a reason to pounce. 

He offered his hand without hesitation. 

“It’s nice to meet the man who’s turned my best friend into a soppy romantic, Kurt.” 

Kurt laughed and shook Scott’s hand, taking note that the other man didn’t jump at the feel of his strange hands or the feel of fur against his palm. 

Logan rolled his eyes. 

“It’s nice to meet the best friend of the soppy romantic, Scott.  Logan’s told me quite a bit about you.”

An eyebrow quirked over the rim of Scott’s shades.  “That’s interesting.  Logan kept you for a surprise,” he remarked. 

And grinned when Logan scuffed the toe of one boot against the grass then protested with a grumble when Kurt swatted one ass-cheek with the spade of his tail.  Scott could see why Logan would be so fascinated by his boyfriend’s extra appendage, especially when he caught the way the end of it tucked itself into the back pocket of the short man’s jeans. 

“You’re not a surprise now, are ya?” Logan asked and looked up into Kurt’s face, watching as the playful disappointment turned into pure joy.  He looked back at Scott even as he caught another familiar scent approaching them.  “Kurt’s from Germany.  Used to be in a circus until he decided to move here.  Met him one evening after me and you headed in our separate directions.  Found out he liked coffee...” 

Kurt interrupted, “...and he found out that I liked being bought coffee...”  He nuzzled Logan’s cheek and then tugged on the other man’s mutton chop.  He peeked back at Scott and liked the way he seemed to be framed by a bejeweled tree in the background, all russet and gold.  He could smell fires being lit somewhere near the park, and he could smell the cinnamon and pumpkin spice not far away.  He slipped his hand into Logan’s. 

Logan’s cheeks crisped under Scott’s smile and scrutiny, and he looked down at the hand holding his.  “So uh...yeah.  Just sorta went from there, Scott.  It’s been a few weeks...”

“A _month_ !  Liebchen, it’s been a whole month...nein!  A month and _a half_!” 

Scott chuckled.  He didn’t know this Kurt Wagner at all, but already he adored the way he fussed at Logan and made him blush.  He didn’t know how Logan had managed to keep a relationship secret from him.  Then again, Logan _had_ kept it to himself that Jean had gone after him with more than the flirting she'd done at Xavier's, but he hadn't come clean about the indecent propositions until he’d found out that she’d dropped the divorce bombshell on Scott.  So maybe his best friend was better at keeping secrets than he was. 

“Well, congratulations on your month and a half.  You obviously work out really well, and I’m glad this tomcat friend of mine finally introduced us,” Scott told Kurt in a warm voice, as if he were welcoming the furry mutant into their family.  Of sorts.  And he guessed he really just did. 

“Danke, Mr. Summers,” Kurt replied. 

“Scott.  Please.” 

“...Scott.  Ja.  So then, Logan, are we all going to dinner or...”  Those yellow eyes darted back and forth from Logan to Scott and back again. 

Logan cleared his throat.  “We hadn’t exactly talked about it, but if Scott wants ta come with us...” 

Scott shook his head. 

“No, if you two have plans, I don’t want to intrude.”  He saw both men about to protest, and he held up his hand.  “Tonight, I don’t want to intrude.  We can plan for it, though.  Soon.  I’d like that...to join you two for dinner.”

Logan accepted that with a nod. 

“Then maybe ya could bring Emma with you,” he suggested and could tell his friend rolled his eyes underneath the shades.  “What?” 

“I don’t think that...”  Scott paused when he saw Logan’s eyebrow quirk and watched the other man gesture with a nod to someone behind him.  He assumed it was someone else who’d seen Kurt’s performance.  Until he turned around. 

And came face to face with the most stunning pair of – what he assumed to be – blue eyes he’d ever seen.  Staring right up at him before they turned to look at Logan and Kurt. 

The woman stepped closer to the trio of men and focused on each one before she even spoke, and one hand slipped out of her light jacket to brush back strands of chestnut hair while she calculated each of them. 

“Emma, hi,” Scott managed to work around his tied tongue.  How long had she been standing close enough to hear Logan?

“Hello, Scott.  Logan.  It’s nice to see you two away from Dalton,” Emma spoke finally, her own voice the caress of smooth leather across bare skin.  She looked at Kurt and smiled at him, offering her hand.  “I don’t believe we’ve met.  You’re not stuck at Dalton like the three of us,” she remarked. 

Kurt shook her hand. 

“Nein, Fraulein.  I’m not at Dalton.  I’m Logan’s boyfriend and a performer.” 

“I saw your performance.  I’ve seen it a couple of times,” Emma told him as she brought her hand back to her side.  “So then, the three of you are having dinner together?” 

“Not tonight,” Scott answered.  “But one of these nights, we’re planning for it.” 

“You’re welcome ta join us, Emma,” Logan invited with a gleam in his eyes and the smile of a rogue.  Or at least a yenta. 

Either one didn’t matter.  It still made Scott's cheeks go red, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out the polite way to tell Logan to fuck off at that instant.  Not without offending Emma, who, up until that moment, he hadn’t really worried about offending because their paths hadn’t crossed that often at school.  Beyond acknowledging each other in the halls or teachers’ lounge, he didn’t remember much other than Jean making snide remarks about the attractive brunette. 

Of course, now he was seeing Emma in a whole new light since Logan brought up her interest, especially since his friend had expressed his opinion that it was time Scott rejoined life instead of secluding himself from most of it. 

Scott didn’t know what he expected Emma to say or do right then. 

What she did, however, caught him more off guard than he thought he could be.

“So then, you’re free tonight, Scott?  I...well, I just wanted to come tell...”  She paused and, since no introductions were made beyond who the furry, elf-eared mutant was to Logan, she plucked his name from everyone’s mind.  “...Kurt that I’ve enjoyed his performances.  I look forward to more.  But now that I’ve done that, I seem to have some free time.  And since these two boys are off to enjoy dinner together and...”  Emma’s mouth quirked into a sexy yet wicked smile.  “...other activities, it seems as if you have free time as well.”

Scott blinked.  He looked at Logan and Kurt.  Both wore grins, and he felt their amusement like a tickle. 

“Uh...well...”  He licked his lips.  He didn’t want to feel awkward to be asked out.  He didn’t want to think about Warren’s taunts at not being man enough to pursue instead of be pursued.  Everything he’d been taught among some of his peers just faded right away to be replaced by the first genuine smile that didn’t accompany a laugh at one of Logan’s crude jokes.  “...yeah.  Yeah, I’m free for the evening, Emma.  Where would you like to go?  Somewhere, I assume, that’ll let us in dressed like...well, teachers who are happy it’s Friday.” 

Emma laughed.  “I know of just the place, Scott, and it’s not a far walk from here.” 

Even from behind his shades, he could see her eyes shimmering. 

Scott offered his arm and didn’t even care if it seemed hokey or old fashioned, and he grinned when she took it. 

“I guess we’ll see you two later,” he told the other men.  “I’m looking forward to talking to you more, Kurt.  After all, someone has to fill you in on all of Logan’s most embarrassing secrets.” 

“Turn about’s fair play, Scott,” Logan returned with the undertone of a growl to his words. 

He watched Scott and Emma walk away together, heading north across the park.  Then he turned his smile up at Kurt and squeezed his hand. 

“Alright, elf.  Time ta go.  Ya wanna ‘port your stuff home or carry it with us to get food?”

Logan followed when Kurt moved over to finish putting his belongings back into the one case and satchel, and before his furry elf could protest, he snagged up the case and left him with the satchel. 

“I’m not in the mood to ‘port.  I didn’t bring much with me today.  We can carry it.  Neither of us are dressed to dine at the Plaza, after all,” Kurt replied and shouldered the satchel.  He slid his hand back into Logan’s and walked with him across the park, heading for the thicket of scarlet leafed maples and golden oaks. 

“Sounds fine to me, darlin’.  Nothin’ fancy, it is.” 

He glanced over his shoulder and could barely make out Scott and Emma headed off together in the opposite direction, and a smile teased at the corners of his mouth.  His attention focused once more on the path he and Kurt walked, catching the rose-colored sunset reflecting off the buildings like mountains over the tops of the trees.  Logan gave an involuntary shiver and thought about the snow that would fall in two months that made him anticipate experiencing the urban fairyland with his boyfriend. 

“I like your friend, Logan.” 

Kurt’s words tugged him from his city-nature reverie.  Logan canted his head to look up into his boyfriend’s devilishly handsome face, and he smiled. 

“Really?  That’s good.  Scott’s a good guy.  I didn’t mean to keep ya secret from my best friend, but...” 

“You know what else, Schatzi?” Kurt purred as he stopped them under the canopy of russet and gold leaves, some low enough to brush his shoulder.  He cupped Logan’s face and turned the other man to face him. 

“What’s that, darlin’?” 

“I love you.” 

Kurt leaned down and kissed Logan – a gentle brush of velvet-soft lips to the other man’s mouth.  The breeze ruffled their hair the same as it shook the leaves over them, and Kurt batted a branch away with the spade of his tail.  He nibbled Logan’s bottom lip then pulled back and smiled when his boyfriend let out a whine when the kiss ended. 

Logan cleared his throat and felt warm in spite of the seasonal twilight chill. 

“Love ya, too, elf.” 

“Mmm...good.  Then feed me, Liebchen,” Kurt murmured and tilted his head to nip at Logan’s earlobe. 

He turned and started to sashay away, leaving Logan to growl and follow after his nimble form. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song "Autumn in New York," sung by Billie Holiday.


End file.
